


Yours is the Light (by which my spirit's born)

by Salty_Caramel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Amnesia, Cultural Differences, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-11-08 17:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salty_Caramel/pseuds/Salty_Caramel
Summary: Amnesiac Fantasy AUYuuri saves the life of a foreign man who has no memory of his past. He brings him to his family's home where they heal him and care for him until his strength returns. This man becomes Victor - a stranger working to earn his own place in the village.(And as such stories go, he soon develops feelings that far exceeds gratitude for his kind saviour.)But where exactly does "Victor" fit in when his former self's past catches up to him?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Salty calling! Thank you for clicking this fic. (˶◕ ♡ ◕˶✿) 
> 
> I've wanted to write for YOI since November, but I didn't really feel confident enough at the time. I'm a bit nervous to try writing again, but it is something I used to be very passionate about, so I hope this project will help revive that passion!
> 
> There are dynamics vaguely mentioned in this fic that resemble some Omegaverse stuff. This WILL be more prominent in later chapters, so if that is not your cup of tea then perhaps this fic is not for you.
> 
> This fic's world building is inspired in part by the videogames/show Utawarerumono, but either deviates from those storylines or ignores them altogether.
> 
> I hope you enjoy Yours is the Light!

When he wakes up it’s to unfamiliar surroundings. As his sleep blurred vision clears and the peculiar woodwork that makes up the ceiling comes into focus, only one thing is certain: he’s never been in this room before.

He is gripped by a sudden fear, a terror of the unknown, which freezes the very breath in his chest as his body stills. His first instinct is to fight the numbness, gain a hold of the situation and calculate his risks— _risks of what?_ —but before he can do as much as blink, someone is screaming and a blazing pain sears through his head, sending his body into involuntary spasms.

He can’t breathe.

“—h-hold on! I’ve got something for—”

A slightly panicked voice pierces through the tortured cries and the blinding veil of his pain, but it is only after what feels like hours, when the yelling stops and the agony finally subsides with the press of something cool against his lips, that he realises the screams were his own and that he is not alone in the room. Soon, it all fades around him.

When he comes to, the pain is reduced to a heavy throbbing, but a blessed cool softness at his brow helps sooth the worst of it. At the very least, his surroundings have stopped flashing in front of his eyes and he can see clearly once more.

The walls and the ceiling are lit up by oil lamps, soft shadows cast where the light does not reach—it must be night-time, he reasons. He is resting upon soft bedding, but he lies low, on the level of the floor, which somehow strikes him unusual, although he cannot point to why that is.

His ears pick up the shuffling of a presence next to him, and he carefully turns his gaze to find a young man sitting by his side, grinding a mixture of sour smelling herbs with ardent focus. His hair is very dark, and his skin surely very pale, yet it retains a warm glow as the light from the lamps gently dances upon it. His brow is gently furrowed in deep concentration, which is also reflected in his brown, somewhat reddish eyes.

This man is very beautiful, he thinks.

He watches him work in silence for a moment, studying the diligent turn of his lips as he works and the unfamiliar garments he wears. Almost like multiple, layered robes in soft hues of cotton and blue. A shimmer of moonlight from the window has scattered in his hair, giving the man a near otherworldly aura. Beneath the bitterness of herbs there is also a different scent—a sweeter one, fresh as a summer breeze and winter’s first snow—all adding to the mystery of this man who is undoubtedly there for _his sake_ , for whatever reason.

His head throbs a little more viciously then, reminding him that his injury might very well be the reason, and he cannot contain his wince or the gasp that escapes his achingly dry lips.

“Oh! You woke up,” the mysterious man exclaims just then, hands dropping his tools to fumble around him as he mumbles something about a mixture he has put down earlier. “Ah, here it is!”

And then the man’s attention is fully on him, his brown eyes glimmering with kindness as he helps him lift his head enough to press his lips to a small cup. “This should help with your headaches, so please drink as much as you can. I’ve mixed it with some nectar and diluted it, so it shouldn’t be too bad… um, I think. But it really will help!”

At the man’s soft insistence, he presses away any creeping doubts he has that this man is trying to hurt him in any way. He drinks the concoction in gulps as big as he can manage. It does indeed taste quite foul, but the sweet notes of the nectar helps reminding him that it could indeed have been much worse—and it does wonders for his arid throat.

The beautiful man hums in approval when he finishes the cup, and he feels his face heating up at the smile he’s rewarded with. He is laid back down to rest while the man clears away the clutter of bowls and cups left by his bedside. Once he’s done, he returns to replace a warm cloth, which he has forgotten has been pressed to his head all this time, with a cool one. He sighs as the coldness seeps into his skin and once again relieves some of the throbbing, which is now slowly ebbing away. Soon his head feels a lot clearer, leaving him only with the exhaustion that injury brings.

“There. You look like you’re feeling better now. I’m glad,” the young man sighs, relieved, and then suddenly flusters as if he’s remembered something important. “O-Oh, pray forgive me…I was so busy clearing up this mess I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Yuuri.”

“Yu…ri…” he finds his voice cracking with disuse, but he has a strange need to test the name on his lips, finding it foreign yet oddly familiar all at once. Suddenly, the confusion from earlier creeps back into him, wrinkling his brow. “Where… where am I?”

His attempt receives another kind smile, and he wonders if Yuuri is aware just how disarming it is. “You’re in my family’s home. You were passed out in the woods outside the village. I was the one that brought you back here, and, um… well, my mother treated the worst of your injuries. I only know a fraction of what she does, but once we knew for certain you would live I—ah…I volunteered to look after you, s-since everyone were tired and someone should be here—just in case you grew worse...”

Yuuri had begun to fumble with his words once he started comparing his own skill to his mother’s, gaze cast down as if somehow ashamed that he wasn’t the best healer on offer—which was ridiculous considering how skilfully he has handled his ailments (quite certainly saving his life just now, or at least his sanity from the pain) and how kind he has been to him in just the first few minutes of knowing him.

By now, his headache has completely dissipated, surely thanks to Yuuri’s medicine.

“Thank you,” he says, sincerely, and feels oddly pleased with himself as another bashful smile graces his healer’s lips, chasing away the ungrounded embarrassment he had just portrayed—and the small increase of redness to his soft cheeks is certainly not a trick of the light.

“It was nothing,” Yuuri replies, as dazzling in his humbleness as in his dedication to his work. The fresh scent of snow and wood seems to rise subtly the room, refreshing his spirit as well as his mind.

They sit in a gentle silence for a moment, until Yuuri shifts the weight on his knees, looking back up from his hands where they fidget in his lap. “So, um…what’s your name?”

When he opens his mouth to answer he finds his throat suddenly dry, but not for the want of water. Rather, it is like the distorted confusion from when he first woke up has poked through the comfortable haze he had settled into, and a cold, terrifying realisation comes with it.

He cannot tell Yuuri his name… for he doesn’t know it.

-

_Memory loss._

The conclusion comes easily, but it is somehow more finite when Yuuri’s mother, Hiroko (a plump, sweet woman who Yuuri assures him is a healer with a very respectful reputation in the region), tells him so directly when she comes up with Yuuri to greet him in the morning after a night of dreamless sleep.

Yuuri sets about sorting out a tray of food for him to eat: a thin rice porridge with mushy vegetables that tastes amazing (albeit partially due to how hungry he is). After Hiroko finishes redressing his wounds (far more numerous than he had expected) and examining his physical condition, she asks him some brief questions regarding his past, his profession and his whereabouts—none of which he can successfully answer.

“I’m afraid I haven’t encountered many such cases through my years of work, and as is the case with these injuries, recovery is unpredictable,” she hums softly. “And in your case, this seems quite extensive. You’re lucky your body seems to function well enough, in spite of your head taking such a blow.”

“So I…won’t remember anything.” It is odd how this should probably be very despairing for him, but somehow not knowing the life he is mourning makes it hard to have any sort of empathy for…well, himself.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that there is no hope of that happening. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow, but it is certainly not impossible,” the healer reassures him, and he doesn’t know if he should feel relieved or miffed at such an uncertain reply regarding his future.

“Mama, is there really nothing that can be done?” Yuuri asks, his soft face marred with concern. He has listened in silence up until then while sat next to his patient, a steady and calming presence while Hiroko had questioned him.

Hiroko seems to think for a moment. “The only thing I can think to recommend is to go outside. See the village and smell the scents. Talk with somebody. Perhaps your new experiences may reawaken your old ones—and with all your wounds closed up nicely, lying around in bed all day will only make you grow weak, at this point. You sit and eat just fine, so you should be up walking before this strong body of yours withers away. Now _that_ would be a shame…don’t you think, Yuuri?”

“M-Mama! Don’t say such obscure things!” Yuuri whines at his mother’s sudden turn from useful advice to playful banter. She only giggles at his exasperation, and their patient in turn finds the exchange between mother and son quite delightful.

“Now then, I will get you a shift of clothes and then my son can walk you around outside. Yuuri, I trust you’ll run some errands for me as well today. Haruka told me earlier a fishmonger from the coast will be setting up stall at the market today. Your father shall be very happy if you procure a nice seabass and some salt for tonight’s meal!”

Once Hiroko has left them in peace to go fetch the promised clothes, Yuuri turns to him with a slight flush across his cheeks. “I’m sorry she said t-that in such a way… I think she’s only trying to tease me, because I—well, you… um…”

Yuuri trails off, seeming to retreat into a shell that stops him from finishing the thought out loud. Wanting to spare the man from suffering embarrassment by his own rush of thoughts, he lets out a low chuckle. “It’s all well. She’s a very lively woman, isn’t she?”

“Very,” Yuuri agrees.

-

Walking is harder than he expected, but Yuuri is there to assists him every step of the way. Yuuri’s mother has given him some of her father’s old clothes—the same style of layered robes that everyone seems to wear—in earthy colours that seem somewhat unusual to him. They fit him miraculously well and do not smell badly of disuse, though he cannot complain either way. Admittedly, it had taken him a couple of tries, and a lot of help from Yuuri to get dressed correctly—the number of robes and ties were quite overwhelming and _of course_ he wouldn’t be able to tell the tie belt apart from the _undergarment_ on his first try (although this did earn him a delightful snort from his handsome caretaker).

Yuuri’s family home, it turns out, is less of a house and more of a compound on the outskirts of the village, comprised of halls and buildings and many, many rooms. He learns that this is because the Katsuki family line is an old merchant family that settled with keeping lodgings. The Yutopia inn and bathhouse, built by Yuuri’s father, is popular with both locals and travellers, famous for both their rejuvenating hot springs and their excellent food.

“My father is very dedicated to his craft, but he couldn’t have done it without my mother’s support,” Yuuri relies as they stumble through the gates. His right arm is slung around Yuuri’s shoulders; his companion is close pressed to his side to support his weight, and Yuuri’s own arms help steady him as he gradually reinstructs his body in the art of putting his feet forward, one after the other. His free hand is clenching a walking stick Hiroko had shoved at him before they set off.

“Wow, she truly is amazing. Running the inn with him _and_ acting as a healer!”

He is genuine in his astonishment of this woman, and Yuuri seems to revel in it, his voice light and smile fully present as he tells him about his family and village.

“Yes, truly! Well, nowadays my sister Mari is working to take over the place one day, so mother is freer to go see patients who do not live as close. I help my father out sometimes as well, but…ah, I guess I followed more in my mother’s footsteps.”

“Which is very well. From what I’ve seen, you’re a fantastic healer,” he compliments, hard pressed to hide his amusement when he feels Yuuri stiffen against him and he can see the red flush he is slowly growing familiar with colour his ears.

“I’m still just an apprentice,” Yuuri insists, and takes the matter no further. Neither does he have the chance to press on, for someone down the road has spotted them approaching and calls out for Yuuri’s attention.

The newcomer is a large, burly man—roughly the same height as him, and notably broader. He carries a large wood axe on his back, surely on his way out into the forest that surrounds the outskirts of the village. “Hey, Yuuri!”

“Ah, it’s Nishigori,” Yuuri says as the man, Nishigori, comes closer. “This morning…”

“…is a fine morning isn’t it? Let’s hope the ground thaws soon so we can start sowing. The winter was harsh this year, but the sudden snowfall we had just yesterday was very strange and unfortunate.”

At Yuuri’s side, his patient blinks. He had been puzzled when Yuuri didn’t finish his sentence and used an unfamiliar intonation, and then, to make matters more confusing, _Nishigori_ had completed the greeting.

 _This is new_ , he thinks, and the weight of this thought settles in his mind. For while he understands the words and know they all speak a common tongue, there seems to be social nuances to the ways the people here communicate that are foreign to him.

Or rather, _he_ is the foreigner.

Suddenly, his lack of knowledge of their dress and unfamiliar way the buildings around him are constructed no longer seem so unfounded.

Unknowing of his little epiphanies, Yuuri carries on with his conversation. “Yes, we had quite a few travellers caught unaware come stay at the inn. It was much unexpected!”

Nishigori, he learns, while physically intimidating, arms surely large enough to wrestle a wild boar to the ground, is actually of the very friendly sort. His voice is booming, but his face is kind, even as he turns to face a man whom he’s never met before.

“Is this one of them? Got knocked off a horse of something, bruised a hip?” Then his mouth turns sly, and he gestures to the way they stand together, closer than is probably proper of new acquaintances. “Or could it be… _Yuuri_ , you shrewd bastard, don’t tell me you’ve—”

“No, no, no, no! I definitely _have not!_ ” Yuuri quickly insists, mortified at the sudden suggestion; he, himself, can hardly contain his amusement upon hearing how their situation is perceived by an outsider, and Yuuri’s energetic reactions are simply a delight. “He is my mother’s patient. I’m just helping him walk outside so he can rebuild his strength… nothing more untoward, to be sure.”

Yuuri casts his eyes down and Nishigori glances between them for a moment. “Hm, alright then. Well, some introductions are in order I think. I’m Takeshi—or Nishigori, if you will. Everyone will know it’s me you’re talking about if you use that name.”

“He’s the village’s best wood worker,” Yuuri supplements. “His wife, Yuuko, is a good friend of mine. Her family has run an apothecary for generations, so my mother has a lot of business with them. She is very talented!”

To this acclaim Takeshi Nishigori is but preening with pride. “Yes, my wife is pretty amazing! If you are headed into town, definitely stop by and say hello.”

Yuuri nods affirmatively. “Thank you, we’ll definitely make a stop there.”

Nishigori grins. “So then! What brings you to our village? You don’t look like you’re from around here I’ve got to say. Where do you hail from?”

Once more, like how they had this morning, the questions asked only unveil blankness in his mind. No words, names, or memories of a place surfaces, and he can only stand in quiet awkwardness, at a loss of what to tell anyone about himself.

“Ah, that is,” Yuuri then sensibly speaks for him, to his relief. “I found him in the forest the day it snowed, on my way home. He has suffered a head injury and has lost his memory… my mother is still treating him, so he’s staying with us for the time being.”

Nishigori’s mouth forms an ‘o’ of understanding as he carefully studies him. “I see. Well that’s certainly unfortunate, mister stranger! But you are in very capable hands. I’m sure Yuuri and Hiroko will take care of you until you can remember yourself. Until then, I suppose ‘stranger’ will suffice eh, Stranger.”

The ‘Stranger’ nods slowly, again not really knowing how to feel about being assigned such an impersonal and un-serving name to use, however temporary.

They soon bid their goodbyes to Nishigori (which is another unfamiliar exchange with Nishigori saying, “We part in health,” and Yuuri finishing, “and so may we meet again.”) and return to their walk into town.

Yuuri keeps their conversation alight as he talks about the village, his family and their community. He is quite relieved to feel that he finally has _something_ to _remember_ , and eagerly hangs on to every little detail Yuuri departs, hoping to fill the empty corners of his mind. Yet, nothing triggers the resurfacing of a former memory, and his past remains a black void.

They meet many villagers on their way out doing their own errands; more strange greetings are exchanged, followed by introductions passed between them. To those he meets he becomes known as the Katsuki family’s new guest. He mostly leaves the talking to Yuuri, a bit overwhelmed by the sudden influx of attention from these strangers. However, as he comes to realise, Yuuri’s characteristic hesitancy of speaking his meaning plainly and directly leads people to read him for information that is not there and draw their own conclusions, quite too often.

The number of people since Nishigori who have approached Yuuri and made the assumption that they are coupled is a growing hilarity; Yuuri’s reactions aren’t nearly as energetic as with his friend though, reduced to more demure denials that he is not even sure convinces half of the accusing parties, especially when accompanied by the wild heat in his cheeks. Quite a few children have run around them in circles, signing songs that elude to there being a marriage and a child in the works. An elderly woman declares him “our Yuuri’s handsome foreigner”, at which point Yuuri only sighs and does not even bother to correct her beyond that.

“Oh stars, by the evening, the whole village will surely think we…” Yuuri mumbles, more to himself than to his companion.

In an effort to comfort him, he leads them another step forward and distracts him with questions about his family and the inn, which seems to work rather well as Yuuri always seems to perk up when he can talk about his family. While witnessing Yuuri’s flustered self is satisfying in its own way, it is when he is truly at ease, smiling about his family or passionately talking of his studies, that he finds him the most mesmerising.

While the villagers’ assumptions regarding his presence at Yuuri’s side had been unwanted, he cannot help but notice how Yuuri seems to demand some sort of respect wherever he walks. The elders and the children seemed to adore him, and everyone in-between would always be in mind to greet him first and ask about his family’s wellbeing, no matter how busy they appeared beforehand.

He muses over this briefly when they reach their first stop: the apothecary ran by Nishigori’s wife.

Yuuko, he finds, is Nishigori’s opposite in appearance, petite and very pretty, but is sweet and bubbly in a way that matches her husband’s near overly friendly manners. Yuuri lights up when he sees her. She greets Yuuri with a heartfelt smile, and three toddler girls clinging to her robes. “Yuuri! This morning…”

“…is made brighter now that our paths have crossed. Yuuko, it’s been too long!” Yuuri all but beams and Yuuko hurries out from behind the counter, her three girls in tow. For some reason, he expects the two clearly close friends to embrace, but Yuuko stops just before Yuuri, much closer than anyone else had this morning, but still not touching.

“And whose fault is that? You are always out and about with your errands, yet you never bother to stop by for even a minute! The girls have missed you, you know,” she chides him, but her smile is still kind as Yuuri stutters out an apology.

Once they are introduced, her kindness is immediately extended to him as well, and she seems wholly understanding of his ailment, resulting in none of the awkwardness from the earlier introductions being carried on into this one. The mother of three, Yuuko’s patience seemed to have grown endless—until her girls all at once let go of their mother’s robes and descended upon their visitors with the curiosity of, well, children.

“Did you get married, Yuuri?” one asks.

“Why is your hair so bright? Are you _old_?” a second proclaims.

“Did you get fat? Or is it a baby?!” a third accuses.

“Y _ou three!_ ”

Yuuko, he has to admit, can appear very terrifying when it suits her.

“This is no way to act before a guest or a customer—even if Yuuri is a friend! I should give you another set of chores to occupy your minds, I should!”

“But, _mama_ …” the third whines.

“Yuuri doesn’t mind us asking,” the first reasons.

“So are you _very_ old?” the second continues, undeterred, to Yuuko’s vexation.

While he finds the whole ordeal rather amusing, something else begins troubling him. With all the day’s talk of his looks, he finds himself very much in want of a mirror, although he cannot guess where he should find one.

They are sat down for a cup of green tea while he ponders this, and the girls, while quieted, do not stop their stares and whispers amongst themselves, furthering his own curiosity. He should have to look for some water to view his visage in, he supposes, but just as he thinks it, he is made aware of a solid bronze plate hanging just opposite the open window, surely a deliberate choice, glittering in the sunlight.

Impulsively, he makes to stand, forgetting for a moment his own weakness and startling Yuuri into helping him regain his balance when he falters.

“What is it?” the healer asks, befuddled, yet hands him his stick without being prompted for it. “Did you—perhaps, did you regain a memory?”

“No,” he replies, finally steady enough on his feet to move forward. “I just… that mirror, I wanted…”

“Oh! Of course,” Yuuri exclaims, quickly realising his intentions, and is just as quick to help him walk the few feet around the table while their hosts watch with interest. Yuuko is quicker than the both of them however, and has already retrieved the plate from the wall for him. She directs Yuuri to shepherd him back onto a cushion before she hands him the object.

The plate is the size of his two palms and just shy of warm in his hands, having been heated by the late morning’s sunlight. Reflected in it is a young man he would definitely consider somewhat handsome, his sharp jaw and straight nose very prominent features; but he is indeed very different from anyone he has met ever since he woke up in this village. His eyes are light in colour, and not at all shaped like Yuuri’s or Yuuko’s. While not as large, his lids are far more prominent. And his _hair_. While the colour is distorted by the bronze coating of the glass, it is obviously _very_ light. Very _foreign_. It is held back by the bandages wrapped around his forehead. Curiously, he pulls a strand free and finds it just long enough to hold in front of his own eye—it is a silvery grey.

He stares quietly at his visage for another moment, relieved that he does not find himself _strange_ looking or, worse, _off-putting_ , but his stomach twists in a sort of uncomfortable disappointment when he doesn’t even find _himself_ familiar, in any way at all.

His conflict must show on his face, for Yuuri fidgets besides him, seeming like he wants to say something, so he looks away from his hair and reflection, silently willing Yuuri to speak his mind when their eyes meet.

“Um…I’m very sorry about your hair. It was longer and very beautiful…but with your wound… There was a lot of blood, and we needed to close it. I’m sorry we had to cut it.”

Yuuri bows his head, and he feels like this subject is of heavy matter to him, and perhaps to others in this village as well. Even Yuuko holds her hands to her mouth as if deeply affected by her friend’s explanation, and the girls’ eyes are wide as they look on in silence.

“Oh,” he exclaims softly, uncertain of what to say in this situation, other than a curt, “it’s all well.”

“But,” Yuuri says, distraught, “it was _yours_ , and you had spent so much time growing it out, surely it meant a lot to you.”

“Perhaps,” he concedes, yet smiles reassuringly at Yuuri while he runs a hand through the locks he has pulled free. “But I think I like it better this way. Less time spent grooming it, for one.”

He doesn’t know if this is true as he speaks it, but he knows that the relief it gives Yuuri to hear him say it, no matter how little, is worth more than a full man’s length of silver spun hair.

-

They eventually bid their goodbyes to Yuuko and her daughters, with the promise to come again, and once more set out on their path to the market. He finds he is steadier on his feet now, but still faint at times, so Yuuri is never far from his side.

The village is livelier than earlier, and their walk through the market is exciting. He finds himself constantly asking Yuuri about this thing or that thing, and his companion is always willing to oblige him. They stop by the fishmonger to find the wares Hiroko had requested, and visit several other carts and shops, either for Yuuri to pick up something he needs or to placate his companion’s curiosity.

They receive several more accusing looks and comments filled with implications, but, by now, Yuuri has simply resigned himself to nervously laughing them off, mourning his scandalised reputation in silence.

After browsing the very popular sweet stalls, they sit down on some stairs to enjoy some filled rice cakes Yuuri has kindly purchased for them, much to his companion’s delight. They discuss the various kinds of food and sweets normally consumed in the village, and Yuuri makes a promise to introduce him to his favourites once the opportunity arises.

Their comfortable chatter is however interrupted by the arrival of a group of bow-bearing hunters marching through the village. They are led by a tall, very handsome woman who immediately sets her severe eyes on them. She turns their course and walks straight towards the healer and his patient.

As he notices her approach, Yuuri stiffens besides him and quickly rises to greet her with a slight bow of his head.

“ _Sensei,_ this day…”

“…the spring marches forward, and the spirits return to the woods—may they bless us with great game when the seasons change.”

Her voice is pleasant, but her tone leaves no doubt that she is a leader: he had her pegged for one the moment he spotted her, after all. The way she talks and moves shows her fully in command of herself and her actions, each movement deliberate in every way—including how her eyes narrow as they find him where he still sits on the stairs, his sweets set aside and long forgotten.

For a reason he cannot quite grasp, his body, his instinct, wills him to stand, feeling very little at ease with this woman standing above him, studying him like he is an unknown threat. He does surprisingly well in his ascent, but once more underestimates his balance. He wobbles gracelessly, prompting Yuuri to return quickly to his now familiar place pressed to his side. However, their resulting closeness has the woman narrowing her eyes further.

“My Yuuri, will you not introduce your acquaintance to us?” she prompts, and Yuuri stumbles to comply.

“Of course! Forgive my rudeness,” he pleads with another short bow. “ _Sensei,_ this man is my family’s guest. He has suffered a head injury which has caused him to lose the memories of his person and circumstances—my mother is currently treating him.” He then turns to his companion. “This is Okukawa Minako—the village’s chief.”

And, oh, that explains a thing or two.

Even with their introductions gone by, Okukawa Minako is not letting her guard down, and her growing suspicion remains in place as she studies the two of them.

“A guest or no, I have been hearing rather unnerving things since I returned of a foreign stranger wandering the village with his hands _all over_ our Yuuri. Is there any truth to these claims?”

Yuuri startles. “ _Sensei_ , of course there is no—”

“I’m asking your companion.”

Her attention is on him now, and his instincts are telling him that he needs to choose his words _very_ carefully.

He swallows quietly and begins. “My head injury, according to my healers, is rather severe, but I’ve been ordered to exercise so that I can return to my full strength sooner. Since I am in most unfortunate circumstances, I have heavily relied on Yuuri’s assistance to move around today. I’m certain our situation has been much misread from a distance by people unknowing of my circumstances.”

He can tell immediately that she is not entirely convinced. She hums, and crosses her arms in contemplation. “Just what are your intentions with our Yuuri, then?”

He swallows carefully. “I hope very much to repay the kindness he has shown me…and with nothing to my name, or even a name to start with, I intend him my friendship, if he so desires it.”

“Friendship, huh.” She looks at Yuuri then. “And how long is he staying for?”

“Um…mother has said recovery is unpredictable in this kind of case, so…unless someone comes to claim him, it will be until his memories returns,” Yuuri reasons. “Or, until he wants to leave.”

“Indefinitely then.” They both wince; she does not seem to like the sound of this claim. They stand in silence as Minako thinks on this for a moment. She seems to come to a conclusion quickly, setting her severe gaze onto him once more. “The winter has been harsh, and we have no use for freeloaders. Once you are healed, we shall find work for you. You cannot live forever leeching on our Yuuri’s goodness—”

“ _Sensei!_ ” Yuuri protests, but is overruled easily.

“—and _you_ , my Yuuri, will not spend all your time coddling a stranger who is clearly not entirely helpless. We missed you at our departure this morning, and while I can forgive it this time once I have spoken with Hiroko, you need to take this role more seriously. There is still much for you to learn before you may succeed me.”

The words are not spoken unkindly, but her message is still severe, leaving room only for Yuuri’s softly spoken, “…yes, _sensei_.”

And so the pieces start falling into place. The many villagers greeting them, the insistent interest everyone has showed them; while a foreigner certainly garnered some interest, it was all because of Yuuri. _Yuuri_ , who is a capable healer, passionate and hardworking, and the kindest, most beautiful man he has ever known, is also the beloved _successor_ of the village chief…who really dislikes him.

_How wonderful._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I'm procrastinating on writing my Big Bang entry by updating this...?  
> Me neither.
> 
> Anyway, I have every intention to finish this fic also, and I finally feel it moving forward. Please enjoy this chapter! I'd be very happy if you let me know what you think is going to happen! x
> 
> ╰(*´︶`*)╯

This first day of activity since his injury leaves him more exhausted than he should’ve liked.

Muscles pained with strain and head light with fatigue, he struggles on their walk back to the compound and he must rely heavily on Yuuri’s assistance. Yet, the healer never once complains, even as he now has to balance both supporting his patient and carrying their purchases on their slow trek back to the inn. For being of such a slight frame, Yuuri is far stronger than he, or anyone really, could have anticipated.

When they finally do arrive, the sun is already low in the sky. Yuuri brings him to sit down in the common area with the rest of their visitors while he goes to the kitchens with their wares, promising to return promptly.

With nothing much to do while waiting for his companion, he leans his head into his hand and studies the other guests. Some have come alone; others sit in groups around steaming pots of food or tea or bottles of rice wine. None of them is as blatantly foreign as he, and he wonders if it is yet too early to give up hope that someone will come looking for him.

While he knows he should probably be feeling somewhat disappointed or worried at this realisation, no such feelings stir in him.

He exhales heavily, wondering if his lack of longing for his past, too, is caused by his injured head.

On the subject of feelings, he had always thought they sprung out from the chest and grew in the heart—for why else would the chest ache when one felt pain, or love, or joy or anger? Now he speculates that these notions have originated in the sprouting proses of a romantic’s notebooks, for it seems that all these sensations were dependent on memories, as well. His instincts seem to foster some emotions—mainly those of fear or anticipation—but, so far, they hadn’t been very coherent and didn’t give context to anything with their spontaneous uprisings.

So far, the only memories he had that could wake any feelings were the ones he had recently acquired.

He wonders if he in his lost, previous life has someone waiting for him—a family, or friends, or perhaps a spouse—grieving his disappearance and longing for his return. He tries to imagine their faces, perhaps hoping that seeing them in his mind will make them somewhat more real. But in the end, nothing stirs in his chest, other than disappointment for this lack of emotion

As he ponders this, Yuuri returns to him with a pot of steaming tea, two little cups and a vaguely familiar jar from Hiroko’s collection of potions.

“Dinner will be ready for us in another hour. I thought we could stay here until then, perhaps play a board game, if you like,” he proposes with a soft, caring smile, and just like that, Yuuri has already chased his storm of tormenting thoughts away. He can’t but smile in return as the healer continues. “Um…I know you must be tired after today, but mother says I cannot let you alone before at least an hour after you’ve had your medicine.”

Yuuri, once again, reverts to his apologetic stance as if he assumes he is a bother to him—which couldn’t be further from the truth. He grins reassuringly, hoping to revert this. “I don’t mind at all. I should be the one apologising to you for keeping you away from your other duties. Are you sure you’re alright, spending all this time on a cripple?”

“Of course!” the healer replies quickly, a grin of his own spreading across his face as he pours him a cup of the steaming beverage and readies his medicine in a dish. “I’m responsible for your health, after all. A healer who doesn’t commit to their patients ailments is not a very good one, I think.”

He agrees wholeheartedly, and downs his bitter medicines without complaint.

Yuuri picks what he proclaims is a simple yet very addictive game. It is played with polished dark and light stones, which are placed in turn on an elegant wooden board sporting a net of lines, intersecting to form a large grid. Yuuri explain the rules for him, on how to place his stones and how to “capture” his opponent’s stones. Once he is confident he understands the basics of it, they play a round. Yuuri lets him advance quite far, testing out the different moves and techniques he’s been shown, but after a while he grows impatient with waiting and promptly overruns him in only a few handfuls of moves.

“You play well for being a beginner,” Yuuri concedes as they clear the board, but doesn’t seem too apologetic about winning. He graciously offers a second round, which he, pride still smarting a little, is quick to accept.

This round, however, goes far differently from the first. Now that the rules and the different strategies have found their place in his mind, it is like his head soaks up every move made and churns out possibility after possibility for a successful tactic to beat his opponent. When he looks up from the board he sees Yuuri’s brow is far more furrowed than it had been in their first round, and when he finally has to surrender to Yuuri’s superior experience, it is not by a large margin.

“I must admit I’m a bit thwarted,” Yuuri says with a wry smile as he studies the board. “I never got the hang of this game, but I have still played far more than you have. You must have a mind for these sort of things!”

“Maybe so,” he agrees, equally befuddled by his own prowess, yet ultimately…somewhat excited. Eager to continue exploring this new aspect of himself, he asks Yuuri for a third round, but they have hardly reset the board before Yuuri’s sister comes to call them into the family dining room to eat.

Dinner is a wonderful affair, even if Yuuri’s mother is absent in order to run the front. Yuuri’s father, Toshiya, has cooked the bass they had brought from the market to perfection and it is served with several vegetables in a hearty broth. The smell alone is mouth-watering, and the taste overcomes all expectations; the fish almost melts on his tongue. His first serving is gone so quickly that Yuuri has to chastise him to chew more thoroughly before he serves him another. Although, he admits he is very happy to see him eat well.

“It’s a sign you’re improving,” Yuuri reassures him.

He eats his second portion much slower, savouring the savoury broth and the fish more thoroughly; when his hunger is quelled and gives place to fullness, he pushes his empty plate away and sighs softly under his breath.

His debt to his saviours is growing to be very large indeed. Thinking on how he currently has no means of repaying them at all weighs heavily on his chest.

Yuuri has saved his life. His mother, too, has saved his life. And Yuuri’s family is now healing, feeding, clothing and housing him with no compensation.

In a way, he supposes he can understand Minako’s fervent protectiveness of her successor and his family, for their kindness could easily be used against them by a lesser man or woman. (Although he can hardly judge himself to be a good man, at least his intentions in staying with them yet remain pure.)

But it is also, he reasons, this overwhelming kindness that might one day make Yuuri a wonderful leader, along with his many other qualities. He is humble and knowledgeable, and makes time to talk to everyone who approaches him. He is hardworking and loyal, and far stronger than he seems with the gentleness of his face and figure. Then again, he supposes he must be if he managed to pull an unconscious man from out in the forest all the way back to the Katsuki home…

(And he is _so very beautiful_ , enough so to knock the breath out of anyone who first lays their eyes on him—he could impossibly have been the only one so struck by his handsomeness.)

Surely, there must be those who have thought to take advantage. Minako too must have seen all this, so he cannot in any way fault her for making him pay his dues.

In truth, he is almost relieved by this turn of events. If he is given work, he can repay Yuuri and his family for their kindness. He will have a purpose to busy his empty self with, a use for those who have shown him hospitality, and a reason to stay…

… _in the village_ , he finishes, decisively—even as a traitorous voice in his head insists that the answer is something else entirely.

(He tries his best not to think on this as Yuuri takes him to his rooms after the meal and helps him undress and settle in his bed, biting his tongue so that he won’t do something idiotic, like _ask him to stay_ , as he bids him goodnight.)

-

Another day of resting in Yuuri’s family’s home has barely gone by when he receives word from Minako that she has, by Hiroko’s reports, deemed him fit to work.

Granted he can by then move around without anyone’s help, even if his walking stick remains a much-needed crutch. Yuuri still looks apologetic on his chief’s behalf as he sets off that morning to perform his own duties, leaving him with instructions not to be too brash and warning him not to overestimate his still weakened body. (The concern touches him deeply, and he will certainly endeavour to follow his healer’s orders.)

Nishigori comes to take him to his post, and he is glad to have a friendly face around for his first day of work. They talk amiably as they walk, mostly about work and about the village, but also about family, which seems to be Nishigori’s favourite topic. There appears to be nothing in the world that makes the man as joyous and boisterous as talking of his darling wife and his sweet little girls.

“Though they sure have their way with words,” he manages to comment on the topic of Nishigori’s daughters, eluding to his own first meeting with them.

“That they sure do! Yuuko told me about your visit. But don’t mind them—they are just children, after all!” Takeshi reassures him. “And Yuuri is like an uncle for them. They look up to him very much, so it makes sense that they’d—you know, want him to have a family of his own someday. I think he’d want that too, if he found the right person for it.”

He ends this statement with a saucy wink and a friendly push to his shoulder, but he chooses to ignore the playful implications—even as he feels his cheeks sting and heart throb a little faster than it should. If Nishigori notices, he doesn’t push the subject any further, content to continue talking about his three little heartbreakers and their misadventures.

They soon arrive at their destination, and to what is about to become his own little misadventure to tell of later.

Nishigori has taken him to the farmland to the south of the mountains where his assignment is to help the farmers ply the ground for when spring and the first seed finally comes.

While the work itself seems simple enough, it appears that he is rather helpless with farming tools. Surely, his still ailing balance could have something to do with it, but after he nearly takes off his neighbouring worker’s leg with a hoe for the _second_ time, he is deemed a danger by the other workers and the tool is taken from him.

In a final attempt to make use of him, they have him man the plough. While a bit more challenging than the hoes, the assignment seems doable, even for a half-cripple, but the ox immediately seems put off by his presence. He has managed to plough but one short lane when the poor animal sets off in distress after he forgets to secure the bindings properly.

The farmers have had enough of his incompetence, made worse by how he can’t even help chase after their runaway ox, and he is sent on his way to attempt another job.

Next, Takeshi takes him to the village outskirts where he is put on carrier duty. He is supposed to help carry water, rice, and flour, and run various other errands for the cooks and merchants.

It should all go well enough, simple as the tasks are, but his legs are still not quite with him and once fail him at the most inopportune moment. This results in a sack of flour ripped open and its contents spilled all over the baker who was supposed to receive it. When he sends two of his workmates onto their backs with his abysmal control over his overfilled buckets he is, in the end, once more deemed a hazard and sent on his way.

Well out of ideas, and perhaps growing discontent with being called for whenever the foreigner has found a spot of trouble, Nishigori eventually puts him to work grinding wheat by hand.

As they walk out to the mill by the river, he explains to him that the village waterwheel had unfortunately broken down not too long ago, and they’re still waiting for a blacksmith from another village to come have a look at it.

In the meantime, the replacement for the mill is a large grinding stone that is to be turned by hand to grind wheat and rice into flour. It only needs one man to operate, so no one else has to be around for him to maim, even accidentally. The work itself if so simple that after a short demonstration Nishigori leaves him to it in favour of returning to his own chores.

The grinding, he finds, is very taxing and results in very little yield. In a long while of constant work, he has hardly ground a cup worth of grains, barely enough for a small piece of bread.

“This is ridiculous.” He exhales loudly with no one there to hear his complaint.

In his frustration, he contemplates giving up, but knows his own conscious will not allow it. Like Minako had said, he could not remain dependent on Yuuri and his family indefinitely. He had to do _something_ to show his worth for the village. With his, hitherto, miserable streak of failures, he still has nothing to his person, no commendable skill or income. _Nothing to impress him,_ the traitorous voice peeps before he can silence it.

He sits down with a huff.

For a while, he simply stares at the dark walls of the mill, eyes lingering on the different mechanics and willing them to start churning at his command. The wish was, of course, very silly and not at all very helpful. Yet, as he keeps staring, keeps looking and slowly memorising… the more the entire machinery seems to make sense to him.

The wheel and the way it’s connected to the cogs and the pins…it’s all a giant puzzle, really.

He stands up and starts tracing the mechanism with his hands, trailing them from the waterwheel all the way to the grinder, tugging and memorising, checking and theorising… until, suddenly, it all makes sense in his head and an encouraging idea blooms inside him.

 _He knows exactly how to fix this_.

With a bit of a struggle, he pulls free the broken splinters of the pin that had once connected the cogs in the wheel. He finds several tools lying around the mill or mounted on the walls, and once he locates a good piece of wood to use for the replacement, he takes the measurements he needs, sits down by the door and begins carving.

He sits there for well over an hour, and he is rather far along, and quite satisfied with his work, when a familiar and most welcome voice calls for him from outside.

“It’s me! Takeshi said you’d be here,” Yuuri says as he comes through the doorway, cheeks red and hair tossed around with the breeze, the scent of fresh snow following him, even now that the snow is melting to give way for the much longed for spring.

He smiles his gentle, disarming smile as he sees him, and holds up a basket that reeks of a warm meal; all of a sudden, the mill doesn’t seem so dank and cold any longer.

“I brought you something to eat. I wasn’t sure if you’d had lunch yet, so, um… I was thinking, maybe we could eat together?” Yuuri asks, and he wonders briefly if the healer knows how impossible he finds it to deny him anything.

“I’d love to,” he says, failing to retain his enthusiasm, “but let me finish this first. It shouldn’t take me too long; I’m almost done.”

He gestures to his little project, which Yuuri studies curiously.

“Ah, yes—please do. But, um. What exactly are you…?”

“It’s a replacement part for the one that’s broken,” he explains as he polishes down a ridge on the wood. “See, it works a little like this…”

So he explains the mechanics of the wheel to the best of his understanding, focusing especially on what he discovered was wrong with it, and Yuuri seems to hang onto every word, asking questions here and there when appropriate. He wonders out loud if he had perhaps been a smith or a miller himself before his memory loss.

True to his word, it doesn’t take him long to finish the piece, and with a little bit of struggle, and some help from Yuuri, they fit it into its rightful place. He hurries to open the water-gate, and they both stare on in anticipation as the wheel starts turning and the mechanisms start creaking.

And, sure enough, the grinding wheel starts creaking with it. Within moments, the mill is back to grinding out flour and they both squeal happily when they realise it worked.

Yuuri seems especially elevated, buzzing with excitement as he watches the first bouts of flour fall down and into the collector.

“Amazing! You fixed it!” he exclaims, looking more than ready to throw his arms around him in glee, but refrains. “This is such a great help to the village. I’m sure Minako _sensei_ will be very pleased!”

He chuckles happily, preening under Yuuri’s praise. “I hope you’re right. She didn’t seem very pleased with me before.”

“A-Ah, yeah… please forgive her for that. She can get a little, um,” Yuuri pauses, struggling for the words, “ _overprotective_ , I suppose… since I am… well…”

“Her successor?” he tries helpfully.

“Yes, that too,” Yuuri mumbles, but quickly changes the subject by retrieving the basket he had brought with him. “I brought some of my father’s cooking. Since you’ve worked so hard, I’m sure we can take a break and enjoy the food now.”

He quickly agrees. They decide to sit down outside the mill and watch the wheel turn while they eat. The food is still warm and steam rises from the basket as they open it. There is a pot of tea and some hot soup; the main dish is bowl of rice topped with a mixture of egg and pork and green onions, and it is one of the best foods he can remember ever eating. He tells Yuuri as much, and the healer seems to flush with the compliments to the chef, looking down smilingly into his lap, muttering softly, “I’m glad you like it.”

As they eat, they talk about a great many things. At the start, Yuuri asks about his day, and his most recent success with the waterwheel is the only reason he dares tell of his less successful ventures. But watching Yuuri positively burst into laughter, as he describes the faces of the farmers as they watched the ox run on its merry way, is definitely worth a day of ruining his meagre reputation before the rest of the villagers.

Yuuri then tells him of his day. He had ridden out to a neighbouring village that morning to share news with their chief—everything from farming to trade, construction and resources, deaths and births of villagers, and all in-between. There is always a lot to remember, so Minako has taught him to keep records for it.

He learns that Yuuri doesn’t get to travel much further alone. Minako is mostly too busy to bring him on her longer trips, and his mother often has to leave unexpectedly, so he is limited to wherever he can go _and_ come back within the same day.

He also learns that Yuuri often dreams of that—travelling. He loves his village and its people, but he harbours such a secret desire to see the rest of the world, as well. He hears a lot about it from travellers and merchants, and from stories from those who have been outside their little corner of the world, but it is truly not the same as being able to go himself.

“You must be from somewhere amazing,” Yuuri says then. “If the people there are anything like you, it must be a great place to live.”

He hesitates a little, not really knowing what to answer. He ends up with a terribly pathetic mutter of, “Ah… I wouldn’t know.”

“Mm,” Yuuri hums softly, clearly not having expected him to. He stares up at the cloudy sky as he munches on the last of his rice, seemingly contemplating something as he chews. Finally, he admits, “You know, I was talking to my parents this morning…about you.”

“Me?” he asks.

“Yes, well. We all kind of agree that it’s rather unfortunate for you not to have a name, since that could be useful for any sort of personal business you might want to conduct and…” Yuuri swallows, reaching for his basket once again, this time pulling up a large tome. “Um, I brought this book of our family tree, which is filled with ideas… so maybe I can help you pick one?”

For a moment, he is stunned. By now, he should be capable of anticipating this kindness rom this sweet, caring man and his family, yet he sits in shock until a wave of gratefulness sweeps over him, nearly bringing tears to prick at the back of his eyes.

“I’d like that.”

Yuuri beams at his affirmation; immediately, they shuffle closer together, legs almost brushing up against one another, and open the book.

It is a very comprehensive collection, filled with titbits of information about each and every Katsuki, or related family, ever born. They glance over hundreds of birth dates and names, Yuuri sometimes pointing out the ones that have been more popular as of recent and those used more often decades ago.

Most of the names are just that: names, birthdates and other little descriptions. But a great number of them also have several strange, illegible drawings scratched in next to them, and his curiosity gets the better of him.

“What are these symbols?” he points out, and Yuuri hums, happy to answer him.

“They are of the old,” he explains. “Before the unification of the Empire and the introduction of the common tongue, the people in this region spoke a different tongue and wrote using these characters.”

“Really?” He is baffled by this information, giving the tiny drawings another analysing stare, attempting to decipher their meaning.

“Yes, really!” Yuuri giggles. “My father still knows a little about reading it, but I only know a few characters… for instance, there’s my name.”

He points to the characters listed next to Yuuri’s name in the common tongue, along with his date of birth and other information, such as ‘dark of hair, dark of eyes, born under the Moon’s protection.’ He skims over it, but focuses on where Yuuri’s finger is pointed as he explains the symbol there.

“This first character means something like courage. It’s supposed to be a strong name to give to a son, although… ah, never mind,” he stumbles a little, but quickly moves his finger to the next set of characters. “Our family name has meaning, too. From the old tradition, these two character together means something like ‘a life of victory’.”

“Hm… so you will name me ‘courage’? Or ‘victory’?” he teases, earning him a spluttering protest.

“N-No! If we give you my name, or name you Katsuki, that will just be confusing for everyone. I was thinking you look more like, um…” Yuuri contemplates for a moment, and then points out another character. “… _sun._ Or maybe, _light_. Maybe something like Akira?”

He chuckles a little. “Ah, well… it sound lovely, but it’s a very local name. Don’t you think it a little strange for someone who looks as foreign as I to be named something like this?”

“O-Oh… I hadn’t thought of that,” Yuuri mumbles apologetically. “I guess you would probably prefer a name from the common tongue. Sorry, I got ahead of myself.”

“No, not at all! I really appreciate you bringing me this,” he promises him. “I’m learning so much about you and your family—and I think I understand myself a lot better, too. Everything you do for me has been helpful, so please don’t ever doubt that.”

“I—um. If you say so…” Yuuri concedes; then, softly, he says, “Thank you.”

“No, Yuuri. Thank _you_. I wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for you,” he says, earnestly. “So I wouldn’t mind being called ‘courage’ or ‘life of victors’, if it was a name that reminded me of you.”

Yuuri flushes prettily as he says this, and the smile that tugs at his lips is no illusion. He clears his throat. “Perhaps not ‘courage’, like so. It sounds a bit strange in the common tongue.”

He snorts, agreeing. “Yes, imagine being named ‘Life of…” he pauses. “Victories…Victor.”

Yuuri lights up a little as he mulls over this. “Do you…like that?”

“ _Victor_ …” he tries it out again. It rolls gently off his tongue, sounding pleasant yet strong. And it had come from Yuuri. Something he would remember every time he spoke it aloud. His face slowly breaks into a grin. “I… yeah. I think I do.”

“It is a good name,” Yuuri agrees, face positively beaming.

He clasps his hands together and bows his head, like he has seen many villagers do when they meet him for the first time; a greeting for new beginnings.

“Then, I look forward to getting to know you—Victor.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading x
> 
> English is not my first language, but I really want to improve. I'm not opposed to any grammar checks or criticism in general--just please go easy on me. :)
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://saltycaramel1394.tumblr.com/)


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